The Lost Chronicles of Reno: Part I: Rat
by Blood-Smeared Shuriken
Summary: Rufus x Reno Reno's life from when he joins the Turks to just after Advent Children. Part one of three. Rated for language, violence and vague shonenainess. Don't like? Don't read.
1. Prologue  Born of Pain

The Lost Chronicles of Reno

_By Blood-Smeared Shuriken_

Disclaimer: I don't own any of the characters in Final Fantasy VII or anything really. That joy belongs to Square-Enix. Someday I will own a Reno plushie to hug, though. Squeeee!

Prologue

_Born of Pain_

The injured teenage boy staggered through the rain washed wrecking yard, a hand pressed hard to the deep cut in the back of his head in a futile effort to slow the crimson spill of blood as he searched desperately for a place of safety, where he could evaluate the severity of his wounds, and possibly do something about them. Similar flows of dark red fell from two identical cuts high on his cheekbones and from a gunshot wound in his thigh, the blood nearly the exact same shade as his red hair, which was a bit too long and caught in a messy ponytail, untrimmed for weeks. He caught sight of an abandoned truck and managed to tug the door open, dragging himself inside to collapse on the back seat. His blood ran out from between his fingers and began to soak into the cheap seats. The redheaded teenager gave a low, pain filled moan, wincing at the agony that flowed through his body at even the slightest move. He should have…

_Known better…_

_Moved faster…_

_Been less trusting…_

He opened his eyes and stared sullenly up at the roof of the truck, glaring at the slashed cloth and the rust spots on the revealed metal. He'd gone to the meeting with his drug dealing cousin in stupid faith, believing in that dipshit "blood is thicker than water" thing, but had been ambushed by a bunch of his cousin's thuggish friends armed with crowbars and chains. They'd beat the crap out of him for a while - apparently his bastard of a cousin hadn't liked the way that he'd been dealing a booming business in arms and semi-professional theft right under his nose. In the redhead's perverse version of luck, some Shinra soldiers had shown up before the thugs had been able to finish killing him and had decided to arrest all the Slum-dwellers for disturbing the peace. The group had included some complete freak in a dark blue suit, who'd _shot_ the teenager _in the fucking leg_. He hadn't _needed _that, thank-you-very-much. He hadn't even done anything to _deserve_ it. Sure, he'd punched the freak, but that had just been to get him out of the way so he could run like hell. Not enough to merit a _bullet_.

The boy moaned again, wondering if he was going to die here. After all the years he'd managed to survive living on these damned streets, he was just going to _die_? In the back of a scrap yard truck? His eyes slid closed as exhaustion pulled at him. He'd just… sleep here… for a while. It'd all be okay when he woke up.

NO!

Angry bluey green eyes flashed open; he dragged himself upright with an effort and pulled a knife out of one of his scuffed boots. He managed to yank his shirt off, nearly passing out from the pain as he lifted the black fabric over his head, and shredded it into long strips with shaking hands, making bandages, tourniquets. He wrapped one tightly around his injured leg, cutting off the blood supply. Another couple were made into a rough pad and tied to the wound in the back of his head. He touched the cuts in his cheeks, wincing at the pain, but noticing with relief that the flow of blood from those two minor wounds had decided to stop. Then he picked up his knife again, gritting his teeth with predicted agony. The knife hovered hesitantly over his leg. Could he do this?

"Well…" he said out loud, his voice sounding disgustingly weak in his own ears. "Let's put it this way… Do you want to live?"

The mental answer was immediate. He plunged the knife into bullet wound, giving an involuntary cry of pain as he did so, feeling insufferable anguish as fresh blood leaked from the wound. He wanted to yank the knife out again, wanted to curl up in a ball and whimper until all the pain, all the misery was gone again. He wanted to sink into the tempting oblivion that he stood on the brink of. He wanted it all to just _end_.

But a teenager's will to live is a funny thing, burning brightly through the black depths of despair, and he could feel the tip of the knife touching the bullet. So he continued to dig the knife it, straining to slide the tip under the bullet. Dark spots danced in front of his eyes, his breath came in gasps. He couldn't stand this for much longer… Any second now, he was just going to pass out.

But, amazingly, he managed to get enough leverage to pull the bullet up a little bit, just enough so he could stick slender fingers into the wound and pull it out. He hurled the bullet away from himself, out the broken window of the truck and into the night, before packing the wound with bits of his shirt, and wrapping it tightly with the remaining shirt-bandages.

That done, he let his head fall back against the seat with a small thud, feeling sick to the stomach and dizzy. He just wanted to collapse. But he couldn't just stay here. He wasn't far enough away from the place where those Shinra soldiers had turned up: they might have followed his pretty conspicuous trail of blood and if he didn't go soon, then he would be utterly screwed.

He moved slowly, painfully, towards the door, freezing as he caught sight of his agonized face in the mirror. He smiled slowly, morbidly, not quite sure if he liked what he saw in the reflective glass.

Where was the streetwise teen smartass now, huh? Where was nasty mouthed fighter, the guy who'd survived on his wits for the best part of a decade? It seemed like the brat he had once been had been burnt away in that bleak agony, at some point when he'd been retrieving the bullet. His eyes looked harder, nastier. There were no jokes now, nothing. Just a will to survive born of the pain that had been inflicted upon him.

He looked away from the mirror, irritated that he'd been allowing himself to get distracted. He slid down out of the truck, giving a low cry of pain as his injured leg jarred against the ground, along with half a hundred nasty bruises from the until now forgotten thugs who had preceded the soldiers. With a mutter expletive, he limped off through the wrecking yard, sticking to the shadows as much as was possible. He moved slowly around a stack of crushed cars, shivering slightly at the feel of the cold wind on his bare chest…

…and came face to face with the dark haired freak whose gun had put a hole in his leg.

His reaction was immediate: he tried to punch the man in the face. Sadly, the loss of blood had seriously slowed him down, and the man/bastard was able to grab his fist before it made contact, twisting the teenager's hand up behind his back. The redhead gave a strangled cry of pain, nearly collapsing as the move jarred his leg. The dark haired, blue suited jerk glanced down, noticing the rough bandage, and then, very deliberately, punched him in the thigh, right over the bullet hole. Hard. The pain flared, a million times worse than before, and it was all he could do to choke back the scream that threatened to break loose.

The injured boy's legs buckled as he finally fell unconscious, dropping down Into that black pit which had been so tempting before, but was now nothing more than an unacceptable fate to be avoided. He _was not_ going to die.

A/N: In case you hadn't noticed, the "freak" was Tseng. I don't actually like that man. He annoys me. I love Reno though. (and the way i didn't mention his name at all was deliberate.) I'm not putting then next chapter up until i get at least two reviews. I see no point in wasting my time on something that nobody is enjoying. Thanks.


	2. One Shinra's Turks

Disclaimer: I don't own any of the characters in Final Fantasy VII or anything really. That joy belongs to Square-Enix. Someday I will own a Reno plushie to hug, though. Squeeee!

A/N: Sorry if this sounds weird, I haven't revised it too much. I just wanted to get it on Fanfiction before it gave me any more headaches. I might change some stuff later. If you see a weird pair of exclamation marks, for no apparent reason my computer doesn't like dashes, and when i copied this thing into notepad, it went like that. so !! - k? k. Again, sorry for possibly repetitiveness/lameness. Oh, and if you don't likeguy/guy relationships, then you probably shouldn't read this. And be nice, i've never written anything like this before. On to the story.

One

_Shinra's Turks_

There was a soft beeping noise, and the quiet murmur of people all around. The bed he was in was warm, and the pain was gone, so the teenager simply lay there, his eyes closed, revelling in the feeling of being warm and clean, a sensation he had not experience in months. Hours passed as he just lay there, feeling secure and relaxed for the first time in nearly ten years. Then the redhead heard a sharp hacking cough, and opened his eyes.

He was in a hospital room, a double, and the smell of disinfectant was insidious: no amount of brilliantly scented flowers could mask it. He was wearing clothes that definitely weren't his own (he didn't even _possess_ anything white) and was rigged up to a drip and about thirty machines. He wasn't in any pain. But why would he be in pain anyway? He couldn't remember. Confused, the boy watched an old man hack his lungs up in the other bed with disgust. He couldn't recall the events leading up to his being in hospital  no, wait. There had been something about meeting his cousin, hadn't there? And… He shifted slightly, and felt cool metal press against his wrists. Looking down, he gasped as everything came flooding back.

His teeth gritted together sharply and he yanked his hands up sharply. Some fucker had cuffed his hands to the sides of the bed. Probably that freak in the blue suit. The coughing one glanced over at the noise, and grinned as his fit finally came to a close. "There's no point," he said in a raspy voice, raw and phlegmy. "They locked you up good, boy. You aren't going anywhere."

The boy shot him a killer glare. "Shut the hell up, old man." He stopped tugging, and twisted his body sideways instead, examining the locking piece. He grinned. This wouldn't be so difficult after all. He glared at the old man. "Pass me that," he snarled, going for as menacing a tone as humanly possible as he gestured towards a small metal implement of the table next to . The old man glared right back. "What the hell do you need it for?" he growled. "The Turk'll be back for you soon."

The boy had absolutely no idea what a Turk was, but he did know that he didn't want to find out. "Just pass it over."

The old man sighed, and did as he was asked, not because he wanted to help the boy, but because he was starved for excitement and bored out of his mind. Dying of lung cancer was a bitch, but it was even worse when there was nothing to do but lie in a bed all day. He watched with interest as the scruffy redhead fiddled around with the cuff on his right hand, swearing as he slipped again and again. The old man smiled. It couldn't be easy to undo a handcuff from that angle. The man doubted he could do it, right up until the point where there was a soft _click!_ and the metal restraint snapped open. The boy went to work on his other hand as the cancer-stricken man watched with amazement his mouth open. "How did… Ah, never mind. They brought you in last night, covered in blood and going into shock, I heard. You'd lost over three litres of blood - everyone thought you were gonna die. That Turk said that you were to be cuffed if you came too, said he didn't want you running off again…"

As the old man rambled on, the teenager finished opening the second cuff. He sat up, shooting a poisonous look at the old man as he slid the drip out of his arm, pushing the tape holding it down over the little wound, just in case it wanted to bleed like crazy as well. Then he stood up, swaying slightly, and swearing as his legs cramped. He rubbed the muscles of his legs grouchily, feeling hot anger boiling up inside of him, both at his cousin and at the bastard who'd shot him and put him through this hell.

"I'm Laurie, by the way," the old man said, breaking off his chatter. The teenager glared at him some more.

"Do I look like I care?" He limped to the door, pulling it open. The bustle of a hospital at midday met his eyes. He glanced down at himself, he couldn't escape wearing just a pair of white pajama pants and a very thin white shirt, no shoes, no jacket. It was autumn, it was fucking cold at night. Plus, he'd be pretty conspicuous.

He closed the door again and leant on it, trying to think. His eyes fell on the old man, Laurie, who was staring at him expectantly. He'd seen him come in last night, so maybe he knew…

"Where'd they put my clothes?" he demanded.

Laurie grinned. "I won't tell you until you tell me what your name is." His evil grin let the teenager know that he wasn't going to budge.

The redhead stalked across the room, grabbing a handful of the old man's shirt and glaring right into his face. "I don't have the fucking time for this," he hissed, blue green eyes sparking. "Where the hell is my stuff?"

"What's your name?" Laurie wasn't intimidated in the slightest.

The teenager sighed, frustrated beyond measure. He contemplated breaking the old man's nose, but decided not to, realising that Laurie would probably call for help and get him deeply in the shit. "It's Reno, okay? Now where the hell are my clothes?"

Laurie pointed at a chair near Reno's bed. "They had to destroy your clothes - too much blood. But the Turk left you that to put on." Reno glanced at the chair. On it were a pair of black jeans and a t-shirt. His boots sat on the floor, cleaned of the blood that had coated them. He stalked over. "Close yer eyes, you old perve," he snarled. "I'm not getting dressed with you staring at me."

Reno opened the door, slipping out into the corridor. He moved through the hospital, walking quickly and keeping an eye out for any morons in blue suits. His whole body ached  while he'd been changing, he'd noticed that his entire body was completely and utterly _covered_ in bruises, most of them from the thugs' crowbars, but there was also a dark purplish-black bruise on his upper thigh, right where the bullet wound had been. He figured that somebody had been nice enough to Cure him.

The double doors leading away from the hospital were in sight. He limped a little faster, slipping past a security guard, who gave him a startled look. "HEY!! It's that kid!" Reno took off.

He darted through the doors, running as fast as he could away from the hospital. His matted red hair fell into his eyes, blinding him. He shoved it away just in time to see a sleek dark blue car drive straight into him. Behind the wheel was the moron in the blue suit. Reno managed one strangled swearword as he jumped straight in the air in pure reflex. He landed on the bonnet, his boots making dents in the metal. He half grinned, and then the freak gunned the engine. Reno went flying over the roof of the car, rolling down the back and landing on the street, his head cracking into the tarmac. He sat up, feeling the by-now familiar pain. It seemed like he'd been in constant pain for the past couple of days. After that mess with the bullet in his leg, this was nothing.

He lay there for barely a second before sitting up. The moron, the Turk, was walking towards him, pulling out his gun again. Reno didn't think, he was just on his feet and kicking the gun out of the man's hand, before he had time to react. And then Reno punched him in the face with a strength born of complete desperation. The dark haired man's head snapped back, and he let out an involuntary grunt. Reno followed the move up immediately, somehow knowing that as soon as the Turk regained his equilibrium, he would be in trouble. So he kept up a constant barrage of punches and kicks, keeping the man off balance. He kicked the Turk hard in the jaw, feeling his leg twinge just a little bit. He winced, and paused just for an instant.

That little hesitation was his undoing. The Turk bastard regained his balance far faster than he should have been able to, and punched Reno in the jaw. Reno's head snapped back. The Turk was a lot bigger than him, and much better fed. He also had more muscle to get behind the hit.

But nothing could stop the furious teen for long, he tackled the other man to the ground, kicking him savagely. "You fucker…" he panted, punching the man in the face. "…You fucking _shot_ me!"

Next thing he knew, agony flared over his entire body, worse than anything he had ever experienced, including his little bullet hunt. He blacked out for a moment; when he came to, he could hear the bastard's voice above him. "Your vocabulary could use a little broadening. An encyclopaedic knowledge of every four letter word does not a genius make."

Reno gave him a full exhibition of how well he could use the words that _were_ in his vocabulary, giving a categorical list of exactly what he thought of the Turk, and a suspected list of who his ancestors had been. He ended his little rant with, "…and what the fuck _was_ that thing?" His body was still twitching slightly as spasms of pain racked his thin frame. Electricity danced between his fingers, light blue and _so_ painful.

As his vision cleared, Reno glared up at the man, who was holding what looked a bit like a metal baton, or a nightstick. The man's face was dispassionate as he looked down at the suffering teenager, bruises were beginning to show up on his cheekbones. His lip was spilt, it leaked small amounts of blood as he talked. "That was an EMR, Reno, an Electro-Magnetic Rod. If you're a good boy, you might be allowed to use one someday." He reached down and grabbed the boy's arm, dragging him to his feet and towards the car none too gently.

"Hey, wait a minute!" Reno snarled, still feeling very shaky. He struggled weakly, trying to twist free of the man's hard grip. "Let go of me, you bastard! You got no fucking _right_!"

"Oh, I don't?" the man asked, his voice perfectly calm. "You made a serious effort to destroy my face."

"You shot me in the leg," Reno retorted. "Let me go!" The man threw him into the back seat of the Mercedes, slamming the door. He climbed into the driver's seat and cast Reno an amused look through the rear view mirror. The front seat and back seat were separated by a steel mesh barrier.

"Or what? You'll infect me with the lice that no doubt populate that mess you call hair? When was the last time you brushed that nest?"

Reno's hand lifted self consciously to his matted red hair. Then he jerked it away, scowling furiously. "Not everybody has the time to spend six hours in front of the fucking mirror, bitch," he hissed, wanting to get _some_ kind of reaction out of the impassive man as they drove away from the hospital. "What are you, gay?"

The man laughed softly. "Really, Reno, you amaze me. Here you are, practically abducted by a man who could quite easily kill or torture you, and you find time to be self conscious about your hair. Astonishing."

Reno snarled and started searching around the edges of the mesh, to see if there was any way to detach the screen so he could strangle the infuriating bastard. Not finding anything, he tried to smash the window, and earned himself a very sore hand, then sat glaring out the window, swearing softly.

"Have you given up already, Reno?" The Turk's voice was quietly amused. "That was quick."

"How the fuck do you know my name?" Reno asked sulkily. He really hated this man. "I sure as hell didn't tell you."

"Just a few discreet inquiries. I barely had to dig - you've made quite a name for yourself down in the Slums… You aren't somebody anyone wants to run into down a dark alley apparently. Running a successful weapons smuggling business, as well as working as a very good thief for anyone with a large enough check book, utterly ruthless in a fight… And only seventeen years old, too. Simply amazing, Reno."

Reno closed his eyes, trying to ignore the man. He didn't need praise from this asshole.

"Of course, you must have wanted to succeed in the world, just to make sure you didn't ever have to go back to a foster home… You were, what… eight years old when you got out?"

Reno devoted the rest of the car trip to trying to figure out how to get the barrier down so he could tear the Turk's throat out. How the fuck did he _know_ this stuff?

The car pulled up in front of the Shinra Corporations building and Reno was dragged out. He managed to punch the man in the face once before his hands were cuffed roughly behind his back. He didn't give up though, dropping to the ground in a complicated roll that ended with his hands cuffed in front of his back rather than behind. With a couple of quick flicks of his hands, the cuffs were open and he was coming out of his roll and running down the street. He'd kill the Turk later, for now, he wanted to get away. He had no intention of going in that building.

But the Turk just chased him and clipped him with the EMR. Once he'd finished convulsing on the ground, he was just dragged back to the Shinra building, this time with the EMR hovering over his shoulder. Reno scowled. "How do I get one of those, asshole?" he asked. Just think of the damage he could do…

"You do as you are told, and stop trying to run off."

"I'm not leaving until I kill you, wanker." Reno grit his teeth as another wave of painful aftershocks ran through him. He noted that most of the EMR wasn't electric and started formulating a plan. As they neared the elevators he darted backwards, slamming his shoulder into the EMR, lifting it away from him and flicking it back towards the surprised Turk, who let out a small gasp as pain ran through him. Reno undid his handcuffs again and grabbed the rod, zapping the Turk with it again and again. "Pay back for my fucking leg, you asshole," he hissed angrily. He looked up as he heard the tromp of booted feet running towards him and started to grin. About ten Shinra soldiers… and he had a new toy. Oh, this was going to be _fun_! He grabbed his matted mess of hair and twisted it out of his eyes, fixing his visibility problem. Then he threw himself forward, kicking the first soldier in the solar plexus and driving the wind out of him. He twisted with the kick, using a move he'd learnt from a really weird break dancer down in the Slums, slamming his booted foot into another soldiers face as he flipped into the air. He landed on his feet in the midst of them and started to lay about him with his new EMR.

A wild grin began to grace his angular features as dark light seeped into his eyes. It was a terrifying sight, one that made a couple of the soldiers recoil, which was their undoing. Reno fought savagely, moving with a startling speed. He kicked one man in the nuts, then jabbed another in the face with his rod. Within minutes, there was only the sound of Reno's panting, the whimpers of the receptionist and the groans of the men who were still alive/conscious enough to make any kind of noise.

After a moment, there was another sound: the cocking of a gun, right next to Reno's ear. He froze as the barrel of a gun nudged aside the matted hair next to Reno's ear. His head turned slowly and the gun moved enough to allow him to look around.

Behind him stood a teenage male - because you just _could not_ call someone this poised a _boy_ - about the same age as he, with perfectly groomed light blonde hair and cold, ice blue eyes, wearing a three piece white suit and a black turtleneck. His face was coldly attractive and he was about two inches shorter than Reno. Reno glared at him.

"Drop the EMR," he said in a calm voice. "Or what small amount of brains you possess will be scattered all over the far wall."

Reno very deliberately dropped the EMR and turned fully around to glower at the other adolescent as the Turk slowly dragged himself to his feet. "I…" he muttered, flinching with every move he made. "I'm afraid… he got away from me, sir…" He looked at the infuriated redhead. "_Very_ well done, Reno. I must admit, I'm impressed."

Reno stared at him. "Is it just me, or are you fucking _insane_?" The gun was jabbed against his head making him wince and flinch. "Watch your mouth," the blonde said coolly. "Tseng, who is he?" He jabbed Reno with the gun again. This pissed Reno off. A lot.

"His name is Reno, sir. I want to train him as a Turk…"

"Why would you…"

The rest of his sentence was forgotten as Reno's hand moved up in a blur, grabbing the barrel of the gun and shoving it away from himself. He kicked the Turk, Tseng, in the stomach and grabbed the blonde's arm, throwing him against the wall. He flicked the EMR into the air with his spare foot, twisting in a neat mid air flip/spin and jamming it against the blonde's throat. He scowled as yet another gun came into contact with his stomach. Cold blue eyes stared into his own as about fifty Shinra grunts ran down the corridor and surrounded them. The bastard had not a hair out of place.

Tseng sighed and confiscated the EMR, handcuffing the redhead for what he hoped would be the final time. "That's why, sir…

Reno sat tied and cuffed to his chair, glaring furiously at the fat man in front of him. "Get fucked, Shinra…" he hissed. "I'd rather die than work for you, you bastard."

He was slapped roughly across the back of the head by the impassive Tseng, who was standing behind his chair, EMR hovering. "Watch your mouth," the blonde boy said for the second time. He was standing nearby, faint amusement in his cold blue eyes. Reno glared at him and opened his mouth to say something savage, but was hit again by Tseng. "Quiet."

The fat man who was, surprisingly enough, President Shinra of Shinra Corporations, the most powerful man in the world, took a deep wheezing breathe and gave Tseng an irritated look. "Why do you think this ingrate could be a productive member of Shinra? I see no potential." Reno wondered for the hundredth time how this tub of lard could share the same genes as the beautiful slender ice sculpture who'd held a gun to his head. Rufus Shinra little resembled his father. He was cool and quiet where the older man was brash and loud. He could draw every eye, hold attention with complete ease, while his father had to shout to make himself heard. There was a… dangerousness that hovered around him, something that his father would never be able to possess. Reno found himself thinking that he wouldn't mind working for _him_, just not for the fat bastard in front of him. He stopped his thoughts abruptly, disgusted with himself. He would _never_ work for Shinra, not even for too pretty Vice Presidents… Wait, what the hell? He must have taken a few too many hits to the head over the past couple of days. He made his mind completely blank, and simply glared, wishing he'd never gone to meet his cousin.

He glared off into space, ignoring the President as he argued with Tseng over his head. His hands moved restlessly, gradually untying himself without even himself noticing. It was habit. When he was restrained, he would break free. He heard quiet footsteps, and glanced up as Rufus was suddenly standing beside him. He spoke quietly to his father and Tseng. Reno couldn't understand the words, for some reason his ears were ringing as his skin prickled savagely. Rufus' proximity seemed to be doing strange things to him. He grit his teeth together, and undid the last of the knots and the handcuffs yet again.. He propped his elbows on his knees and dropped his head into his hands. His brain hurt.

A second later, the world spun and dropped away as the redhead passed out for the second time in two days.


	3. Two Attitude ProblemEmployment

Disclaimer: I don't own any of the characters in Final Fantasy VII or anything really. That joy belongs to Square-Enix. Someday I will own a Reno plushie to hug, though. Squeeee!

Two

_Attitude Problem/Employment_

When he woke again, he was lying on yet another hospital bed. He glared at the ceiling. "I am making a habit of this," he muttered as he rolled off the bed, coming shakily to his feet. His arm hurt. He glanced down at it, frowning. There was a neat line of stitches running down his left forearm across the base of his wrist. He stared at it. "What the hell…?"

Some bastard had opened up his wrist and… shoved something inside. He could just feel something foreign pressing against the skin. It was awful. He hissed in a furious breathe and started to tug at the stitches. He noticed a scalpel sitting in a kidney dish on a table nearby. He picked it up and cut the stitches away, slipping his fingers into the hole and pulling out a small flat electronic devise designed to curve around his arm muscle. It only just stung, so he figured that whatever anaesthetic had been used to numb his arm was still in effect. Maybe they had expected him to stay out for longer, which would explain why he hadn't been restrained in any way. Reno grinned. A former addiction to practically every kind of drug in the world had given him a completely insane immune system – basic painkillers just didn't work anymore and the heavier stuff didn't keep him out for nearly as long as it would to a normal person. For the first time in his life, he was grateful that he'd been an addict.

He opened the door carefully, noticing that it hadn't even been locked. _Slack bastards_. Stepping into the hallway, Reno was delighted to see that it was all deserted, not a human in sight, not even a security camera. He slipped out into the hall, jogging as quietly as is actually possible in heavy boots, wandering around aimlessly as he tried to find a way out. Through a stroke of blind luck, he caught sight of an EXIT sign. He started to run faster, not caring how much noise he made, sprinting through the doors and past a couple of very surprised security guards. He took of into the growing dark, headed for the Slums of Midgar, where, ironically enough, he'd be safe. It wasn't often that anyone could claim he'd be safe in the Slums.

Three hours later, Reno was passed out on a mattress at a friend's one bedroom apartment. He was sleeping peacefully, happy in the certain knowledge that there was _absolutely no fucking way_ that Tseng would be able to track him down in here. The joy of the Slums was that you could loose yourself really easily in the seething mass of humanity that was the Slums idea of a crowd. And there were all sorts of people who had been just delighted to offer the teenager a place to stay. Most of them were female…

He yawned and rolled over, his eyes snapping open as some sense alerted him to danger. He was on his feet and halfway to the window when Tseng kicked the door in and shot him in the back of his right shoulder. Reno half screamed and started to swear as darkness closed over him again. He made a small mental tally: this was the second time the bastard had shot him over the past couple of days. It was also the third time he'd passed out.

_I hate you, Tseng…_

"Wow, we got some variety this time," Reno muttered as he slowly became aware of his surroundings. For once he was NOT in a hospital bed. He was in a large waiting room, instead, being held up by two Shinra grunts. "Fucking marvellous." He felt like he was going to throw up, but he managed to fight it down. His head hurt now, too. And his arm throbbed. And his shoulder still hurt like crazy, even though someone had obviously healed it at some stage  he would have one hell of a bruise, but on the plus side, at least he wasn't dripping blood everywhere, for once. He gave up on cataloguing all his aches and pains, simply deciding that he felt like shit and he wished this day would end.

"Shut up, Reno," he heard Tseng murmur from somewhere nearby. "The President is coming." Reno managed to turn his head and glare at the older man. "I fucking _hate_ you," he hissed, breathing out sharply as the two men who'd been holding him upright dropped him to the ground. He doubled over momentarily. "That's nice," Tseng replied. "Now shut up." Reno snickered quietly as his vision changed back from swirling black dots to normal sight. He lifted bloodshot eyes to glare at the approaching blob that was President Shinra.

"Well, well, well…" he laughed, his multiple chins wobbling. Sickened, Reno glanced away. "Our little escape artist has come home!" He clapped his hands together. Reno looked up, loathing in his blue-green eyes. He was about to say something furious, but the Rufus Shinra walked into the room and locked eyes with him. _Don__'__t say a word…_ the blonde teenager mouthed.

Reno narrowed his eyes, but Rufus just glared at him. _Do as you__'__re told…_ Reno dropped his eyes to the ground with a little sigh. He had no idea why he was obeying Rufus, but the fact that the blonde almost definitely had a gun concealed somewhere on his person probably had something to do with it. He'd been shot more than enough over the past couple of days, thanks very much.

President Shinra began to rant about then. He shouted about loyalty to Shinra Corporations, about trust, about earned respect. He also added subtle and not so subtle threats, just for affect while Reno stared at him with scorn he didn't even bother to conceal. The President rounded off his speech by kicking Reno in the head. Reno fell back, spitting blood and curses. He came up with murder in his eyes, reaching for the knife he had concealed under his shirt. Thank gods Tseng hadn't searched him for weapons yet…

The cold, smooth barrel of a gun stared him in the face as his eyes met with equally cold blue eyes. "Don't make me shoot you…" Rufus said softly, his lips barely moving, as though he wanted to keep what he said from his father. Reno sighed and let go of the knife. He told himself that arguing with a gun was pointless, but really, it was probably more the concussion he'd accumulated and the way there was a small flicker of humanity in Rufus's eyes which almost begged Reno not to do anything stupid. A second later, six grunts burst into the room and started beating the crap out of Reno for daring to raise a hand to their precious President. Reno phased out after awhile and just let them kick him around. He was in a place somewhere beyond painful blows to the head. He was floating in a haze of semiconsciousness and blood loss. He was practically seeing the original tunnel of light.

In short, it was a good thing President Shinra left the room about then, so Rufus could order the men off Reno was going into delayed shock from to much pain over too little time. The world hazed yet again as there was the soft sound of footsteps near his ear.

"Are you awake still?" Rufus's voice said calmly from somewhere above him.

"…yes…" Reno managed, closing his eyes against the pain. He had two cracked ribs at the very least, and he couldn't feel his feet. That scared him more than anything. He felt a cool hand touch the side of his face lightly, and hissed at the pain even that small contact generated. Rufus didn't bother to shift and lessen the pain, just began to chant softly as a green orb glowed in his other hand. After a second Reno could feel his lower body again. He wished almost immediately that he couldn't  needles of pure white-hot agony shot through his body as bones knitted themselves back together, cuts closed over and bruises faded away, compacting all the pain they would have caused during a normal healing to happen in under two minutes. Reno whimpered quietly, very grateful that he'd been unconscious for the other two healings. He bit his lip ring, trying not to make any more noise as Rufus gave him a vaguely scornful look. Reno glared back.

Once the healing was over, Rufus slipped his hand away and stood up. Reno was disgusted to find himself missing the feel of cool fingers on his cheek a little. He saw Rufus scrubbing his hand on his jacket and felt hot fury run through him. The fucker couldn't even stand to touch him, could he? Well, fuck him, too.

Reno somehow struggled to his feet and stood there, swaying. Rufus gave him a calculating look, watching as he nearly lost his balance. With a barely audible sigh, he reached out and grabbed Reno's arm, steadying him. Reno stared at him. This was… unexpected.

Rufus didn't meet his eyes, just pulled a small bunch of keys from his pocket and tossed them to Tseng. "Take him there," he instructed. "He needs sleep. When he wakes up, give him a uniform and send him to me again. We'll discuss his employment arrangements then. Oh, and make sure he eats something. He's all skin and bones."

And with that he shoved Reno at Tseng and stalked towards the elevators. "Yes, sir," Tseng said calmly, taking Reno and towing him towards another elevator. Reno closed his eyes on the trip down. The world was becoming far too surreal. He didn't even have the energy to try to make a break for it as Tseng led him through the streets, down into the Slums and to a grey apartment building. All he could manage was to drop face down onto the bed Tseng told him was his.

Back in the Shinra buildings, Rufus sat in his immaculate office and stared at the hand he had laid on Reno's flushed cheek. It had yet to stop tingling. He sighed and picked up a glass of… _something _alcoholic. "I don't have time for this."

Reno frowned slightly at the bathroom mirror as he ran his hand through his now neat hair. He was so not used to this… His hair was clean for the first time in months and tied back with a leather tie the hairdresser had given him. The hairdresser had cringed, like, _a lot_, when Reno had been marched into his little shop but he had done a good job, cutting his hair into a sort of mullet, longish on top with the super long ponytail reaching halfway down his back. He'd actually let Reno keep his ponytail, although it was a hell of a lot neater than before. Reno sighed and glared. It was way _too_ neat. He suddenly randomly scrubbed at his head with his hands, spiking his hair wildly. There, that was better. He wrapped a towel around his waist and went to go get dressed.

Wandering out of the bathroom, he came face to face with Tseng, who was holding a pile of clothes. "Here," the impassive dark haired man said, shoving the clothes at Reno. "You're to wear this."

Reno glared at him. "How the hell did you get in here? The door was locked." _And had a chair under the knob as well, so no one could get in even if they did have a key_, he added silently. Tseng didn't reply.

"Have you been eating?" he asked suddenly. Reno blinked. What? Oh, yeah, he was only wearing a towel. He glanced down. His ribs were pretty prominent. He glared at Tseng again. "Some of us don't get our meals delivered to us of a fucking silver platter," he snarled, retreating to the bathroom again, the clothes in his arms.

He emerged ten minutes later, wearing the white shirt, dark blue slacks and matching jacket that made up the Turk uniform. He wore the shirt open at the neck and untucked, not having even bothered with the tie; his jacket was worn open as well. Tseng frowned as he sat down and started yanking on a pair of heavy boots. "You should not be wearing the uniform in that way," he said, a faint hint of disapproval entering his voice.

"Get fucked, asshole," Reno said, but half heartedly. He couldn't manage to summon the energy to be angry over something so trivial. "I'll do what I like, at least with this… you've decided every other fucking thing for me…"

Tseng raised an eyebrow. "You are in no condition to be making your own decisions. How many illegal drugs are you addicted to?"

"None - been there, done that, lost the brain cells. Not that it's any of your fucking business." The redhead's voice was slightly muffled as he knotted the laces on one of his boots. Reno straightened up and glared at the older man. "Is there any real reason you still have to be here? You've given me the uniform, now piss off."

Tseng sighed. "Come with me. I've been told to bring you to Rufus. He wants to talk to you."

Rufus Shinra looked as immaculate as ever as Reno walked into his rooms. He was standing near a huge wall of glass which was probably what he considered a window, sipping a glass of some kind of amber alcohol. Reno sniggered when he caught sight of the glass wall. "Now there's a security issue…" he said, grinning. Rufus turned and gave him a cool look, flicking his eyes to his hair and giving a faint smile of approval. "Indeed… or, it would be, were it not made completely from bullet proof glass… Tseng, would you please leave us alone? I want to talk to Reno."

Tseng looked faintly dubious, but he did leave, shooting Reno a warning look, that clearing said that if he tried anything, he'd be collecting bits of his head for days to come. Reno smirked in return. Rufus beckoned him as the door closed. He wandered a little closer, stopping about six feet away. "You want something?"

"Two hundred thousand gil."

Reno felt his body freeze. "What?"

Rufus gave him a long calm look. "Two hundred thousand gil. That's what I'll pay you, extras and bonuses excluded, a year. My father will offer you a fraction of that, as a junior Turk, and a troublemaker."

Reno's eyes narrowed as he stared at the blonde. "And you are offering me that much because…?" He was frankly curious, hating how the other was impossible to read. Reno could normally form a fairly good guess of what somebody was thinking from a combination of born instinct and experience of the confusing creature known as man. But he could get nothing from this guy, nothing at all. He didn't know what his motives were, why he did what he did. It really pissed him off.

Rufus was impressed, he'd expected more swearing than this.

"Because I want to. I can afford it. And I would prefer to have you on my side rather than my father's. What do you say?" Ice blue eyes locked with bluey-green ones. Reno was frowning, thin red brows drawn down sharply over a straight nose. He was obviously thinking it over.

"How much would you normally pay a Turk?" Reno asked, and a great deal of the usual anger was gone from his voice. Rufus smiled slightly. "About half that. If they were good."

Reno nodded. "And what would you want in return? What would I have to do?"

"I want absolute loyalty," Rufus said flatly, eyes pinning Reno to the wall. "I want you to stop trying to kill Tseng. I don't want there to be anymore bullshit like yesterday. If you ever attack me again you will be dismissed immediately, and I do not rate your chances of survival after that as particularly high - Tseng will hunt you down and kill you. You will do as you are told. Before you become a 'real' Turk, you will have to complete… something at a training camp somewhere in the middle of nowhere. I'm not sure of the details, if you want to know more, then you should ask Tseng. But after that, all you have to do is whatever I want." The elusive half smile appeared again and disappeared just as quickly.

Reno laughed shortly at that. "Will I get an EMR?" Red hair fell in his eyes. He flicked it away impatiently.

"One track mind, Reno?" Rufus asked with a faint smile. He walked away from the window, absently handing his empty glass to Reno. Reno stared at it for a second, then put it on a nearby table without complaint. Rufus flipped open a stainless steel case that was sitting on yet another small table, drawing out a familiar looking rod. He tossed it to Reno. The redhead caught it without visible effort, and gave a wide grin that lit his eyes up and made him look like a little boy at Christmas. (Admittedly, he wasn't really a little boy anymore, and the toy he had just been given was capable of causing extreme pain and death, but you get the idea.)

Rufus watched with amused eyes as Reno made a few experimental passes with the EMR, suddenly working out how to change the power output. He turned it to level seven, the highest, immediately. Rufus sighed as he watched blue electricity crackle around the steel nightstick. "Reno… Level seven is commonly known as 'kill'. I would suggest you turn it down again until you get the hang of it - drop the thing on your foot and kill yourself and I will be _very_ unimpressed."

Reno gave him an utterly filthy look but turned the power back down again. He tilted his head on one side for a second, looking like a very cute redheaded pigeon. _(A/N: Don__'__t ask me where that came from, I don__'__t know.)_ Then he scuffed a booted foot along the ground, and said, "What're the other Turks paid?"

"Like I said, about half of what you'll be receiving, if they're good at their job. What of it?"

"Give me the same. I don't want to be singled out."

Rufus frowned. "I was serious when I made that offer, Reno, and it still stands."

"Thank you, sir. But I don't think I need it. Two hundred thousand seems a little over the top." Reno's brain screamed at him, asking him what the fuck he thought he was doing. _Shut the hell up_, he told it. _A hundred grand is fucking great on its own. I don__'__t need any more. Besides… my loyalty isn__'__t worth that much._ Rufus stared at Reno for a while, then smiled slightly, inscrutable as ever. "As you like," he said calmly. "You should probably start packing sometime soon - you'll be leaving for the training camp quite early tomorrow morning."

Hours upon hours later, Rufus stared silently into space, wondering what would happen now. He'd set everything in motion, given Reno every opportunity he could. Why? If someone had of asked, he wouldn't have answered, not just because he didn't want to, but because he didn't really even have an answer, not for himself, not for anybody. He doubted he ever would. There was just something about the redhead that screamed out, forcing everybody to take notice of him, howling for attention. He was utterly impossible to ignore.

And so he'd come crashing into Rufus' ordered existence, destroying all his balance. Balance was very important to Rufus, without it, he could not achieve emotional distance, the coldness he required to continue living. If he began to care, it would all unravel…

But still…

…_glaring up at him from the floor…_

…_on his knees, blood dripping from the corner of his mouth as the rage he was trying to suppress glinted in his eyes…_

…_staring at him with disdainful eyes as he gave him a ridiculous offer, demanding loyalty from someone who would most likely betray him…_

…_accepting his offer, but twisting it around until _**he**_ was the winner, _**he**_ was somehow the one in power…_

What the hell had Reno done to him? He trusted Tseng with his life, but nothing else. Tseng knew nothing of his feelings. But with Reno, he had felt an instant bond, something strange and unknown.

Maybe… a… friend?

Friendship? Was he even capable of that? Who knew… Either way, it would be a couple of months before Reno came back from his training. He would have had the time to decipher his feelings by then. Rufus stood up, wandering from his desk towards the window and leaning on the wall beside it, staring out into the night. He stayed that way until morning, when Tseng came to find him.

A/N: Alright, there's the first part done. I know it's short, about as long as single chapter I've done for other stories, but it's really just the introduction. It's tentative, but I'm thinking about doing maybe three Chronicles. This one's called "Rat" (like street rat) set before Reno becomes a Turk, then one about after he comes back leading through the game etc ("Reno") and one set after/during Advent Children ("Rufus"). Let me know what you think, okay. If it's a bad idea, I won't do it.

Gratefulness abounding to YinYangWhiteTiger, izzy283, and whoever the anonymous person known only as "Reno" is. I liiiiiike reviews. Thanks a lot. I mean, consider how nearly a hundred people have actually at least _looked_ at the story, possible even _read_ the story, and those three were the ones nice enough to leave me reviews. I'm ever so grateful.


End file.
